


the glory of my broken bones

by sleepyshamrocks



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, dumbledore should simply stream so what, i present to you jock jungeun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23461333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyshamrocks/pseuds/sleepyshamrocks
Summary: Jungeun strikes the Bludger with all her might, sending it in Jinsol’s direction. The ball leaves with a thwack and a ringing that thunders down her right arm.The plan was to knock Jinsol’s hand away and let the Snitch escape, but immediately, Jungeun realizes she overshot the hit. She swung too hard.Shit.She watches the ball streak away in slow-motion, dread sinking down her stomach. Jungeun wants to yell, look out!, wants Jinsol to notice the heavy metal mass hurtling her way, but the crowd is holding its breath and Jungeun nearly falls off her own broom in panic and finally Jinsol’s head turns imperceptibly at the whistle —Jinsol’s eyes widen for that fraction of a second.Thunk.The Bludger collides with her temple, sending her careening into another Ravenclaw player.orSlytherin Jungeun and Ravenclaw Jinsol deal with two Quidditch games, ten rowdy friends, and one great year at Hogwarts.
Relationships: Ha Sooyoung | Yves/Kim Jiwoo | Chuu, Jeon Heejin/Kim Hyunjin, Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul & Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip, Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul/Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip
Comments: 43
Kudos: 215





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's quarantine szn which means that i don't have an excuse to be lazy anymore 😗✌️
> 
> n e ways loona as witches...the serve

“Cap, we have a problem.”

Jungeun looks up from the sad stack of toast she’s building on her plate, tilting precariously in all its buttery glory. It’s Quidditch season, which means playing with her food until Sooyoung ends up slapping the back of her head and force-feeding her whatever breakfast the house-elves whipped up that morning. 

She needs nutrients. What she doesn’t need is Hyunjin and Hyejoo dragging a pint-sized girl by her shoulders and interrupting her pre-match routine. The child (because she cannot be anything other than a child, by the looks of it) is drowning in her Slytherin robes, which has to be at least two sizes too big for her frame. 

Jungeun stares at her teammates, then at the girl, then back at her teammates. “Uh, yes?”

Hyunjin’s grin is wide and unnerving. “Jungeun! Hello! You look great today! Not that you don’t always look great — because you do! Strong and...and all captain-like. Haha, speaking of being captain, remember that motivational speech you gave us at the beginning of the year? The one about teamwork being built on trust and responsibility and weekly rounds of Bertie Bott’s Beans roulette — not that what I’m saying has anything to do with the beans, of course, unless you do want some, in which case I have some in my pocket right now and would be a hundred percent willing to part ways with them for yo–,”

Jungeun shoves a toast into her mouth to shut her up. Even the wobbling heap on her plate has more structure than Hyunjin’s sentences. 

“Hyejoo,” Jungeun deadpans. 

The beater shrugs sullenly. “Chaeyoung is currently passed out on her bed after a five-hour bowel-related scuffle with an undigested Chocolate Frog that’s been kicking the inside of her stomach since dinner,” she informs. 

Jungeun feels the tell-tale signs of a headache growing behind her temples. “Our match with Ravenclaw is in two hours! Drag Chaeyoung’s ass here if she doesn’t want to sleep with the merfolk tonight. And what’s with the kid?”

“I’m _thirteen_.” The kid stomps her feet, which changes absolutely nada.

“Anyway,” Hyunjin chuckles nervously, “um, it kindofmighthavemaybe been my fault, but I wasn’t trying to cause any harm, promise! It’s just that the spell looked fun so I thought –,”

“She was the one who hexed the frog to stay alive and felt guilty about it, so we dragged this third-year we found zipping above the astronomy tower dropping Dungbombs at second-year Hufflepuffs as a consolation replacement,” Hyejoo supplies. Her eyes are glued to the sizzling platter of bacon the entire time.

The Leaning Tower of Toast finally collapses, and with it: Jungeun’s sanity. Her brain is the crumbs scattered all over the morning newspaper splayed out in front of her. 

She takes a shot of pumpkin juice, yet the sweet tang fails to chase away the incessant pounding in her skull. “You two mean to tell me that we’re down a Seeker, _two hours before House Cup preliminaries_ , and the only replacement you could find was this - this,” Jungeun waves a hand at the third-year, who stares down at her with the brattiest expression known to wizardkind.

“Youngster with street skills and untapped potential for excellence. Im Yeojin. You’re in a year with my sister, Hagseul.” She only trips on her robes once before taking a seat next to Jungeun and thrusting a hand towards her.

“The Gryffindor? Isn’t her name Haseul?”

“Not to me, it’s not. Hah, imagine already being sixteen in this economy.”

Jungeun tries, _tries_ to remind herself that punching a thirteen-year-old would cost her house a thousand points and probably induce a light hex from one of her meaner prefects. A vision of Nayeon waving her wand at Jungeun’s face with her perpetually aggravated squint manages to keep her temper at bay. 

Yeojin folds three fried eggs between two slices of banana bread and gulps it down. “So tell me, what’s the plan to take down these big-brained fools? All I have to do is chase the little yellow thing and catch it before the nerds do, right? Sounds easy enough.”

“The Snitch is literally the most important piece of the game. It’s elusive and can take hours to find, even for the most seasoned players. How do you not know this? We’ve had a game every week of the month!”

“Whatever. I’m a Muggleborn.”

Jungeun stares at the little munching menace. 

Hyejoo, bless her dark emo heart, reads her mind. “We already asked Sojung and the other retired Seekers. They have mock exams for OWLs this afternoon, so they’re out. We don’t have another choice.” 

Yeojin sniffs. “Tragic.”

“Fine,” Jungeun snaps. “You’re our new Seeker. Do you even have a broom?”

“No, but Hyunjin told me I can find one in the changing room.”

“Hmph. Sooyoung—that’s our Keeper—will have to brief you on today’s game plans right after breakfast. Chaeyoung was supposed to do a Wronski Feint thirty minutes into the game to incapacitate their Seeker, but you’re probably not capable of that, so we’ll have to assign a spotter in the meanwhile –,”

“Who’s the Seeker for Ravenclaw?” Yeojin interrupts, and that’s when Jungeun’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt. The type that flings you from one train cabin to the next if you didn’t channel your bodily chakra to your feet in time. 

Ah. 

She-who-shall-not-be-named. 

Jung Jinsol is…Jungeun doesn’t want to call her a problem, because she’s not — in fact, the girl is built like an indoor plant: sweet, loveable, and doesn’t demand attention to herself. In the grand scheme of household vegetation, the girl ranks between a cactus and a succulent, if said cactus had the ability to suddenly go from braces ( _my parents are dentists_ , Jinsol had said during their first meeting, after Jungeun stops munching on a treacle tart to stare at the bright shiny bands lining her teeth) and Dora the Explorer-esque bangs to sharp jawlines and bright blonde curls in the span of the summer break between fourth and fifth year. 

That’s the not-really-a-problem-but-it-actually-kind-of-is part: they were almost friends, once upon a time, and then they weren’t — sure, technically it was pretty much Jinsol’s fault, but second-year Jungeun spent way too much time playing the I’m-mad-at-you card until the distance stretched and stretched for real and. Well, here they are. 

Five years of awkward hellos in shared classes and mutually deliberate avoidance during Quidditch matches. When Jungeun feels like patting herself on the back, she’ll say that she doesn’t feel like reconstructing the flaming heap of a bridge that was their friendship and that she has better things to spend her time on. Namely, her Chocolate Frog card collection. 

(The truth: their fight was barely more than a petty squabble.)

(Also the truth: Jinsol is smoking hot now, and thinking about it makes Jungeun’s insides squirm like Gillyweed.) 

Someone flicks her forehead. It’s Hyejoo, smirking at her like the malevolent punk she is. “Distracted?”

“Touch me again and I’ll make sure Chaewon knows you don’t actually like the Muggle rice cakes she brings you every start of the year.”

Hyejoo’s chin is tilted high, but no one can mistake the quiver in her eyes at the thought of disappointing Chaewon. 

“Right.” Deep breaths, and Jungeun turns back to the gluttonous child. “Their Seeker is a sixth-year, like me. Um, Jung Jinsol. She’s good, I guess. Good enough to win them the House Cup last year. It was cool, actually; their first win in three years.” Then, a hurried afterthought: “Although maybe the Snitch was just taking it easy on her. Ravenclaw’s lame, duh.” 

“Duh,” Yeojin nods seriously. She’s adapted well, hand quietly snatching Hyunjin’s chocolate croissant while the chaser makes heart eyes at the Gryffindor table. Jungeun is oddly proud. 

She glances at the large clock at the end of the hall and curses when she realizes how late they’re running. Sooyoung will have her head if she stumbles into the pitch ten minutes before game time. Again. “Get your asses to the field. And Yeojin, I’d better not smell a single Dungbomb on you when we’re in the air.”

“No promises, boomer!”

Sooyoung doesn’t kick her ass. They find Yeojin a broom. Hyunjin only misses the first thirty seconds of her speech after fussing over Heejin, the only person in the sea of green wearing a red tie. The toast she had for breakfast settles nicely in her stomach, and Jungeun thanks Harry Potter with all her stars that her pesky pre-game stomach aches have decided to forgo her today (at first, it happened often enough that she was this close to self-diagnosing herself with a gluten allergy. Now, she chalks it up to nerves). 

It’s a good day to win. Jungeun can feel it in her bones. 

“Good luck.” She returns Mina’s firm handshake, both captains nodding at Madam Jeong’s usual instructions to play fair and win fair (surprisingly, the referee raised no objections to Slytherin’s sudden team rotation; she only took one look at Yeojin before pinching the bridge of her nose). 

And then they’re off. Jungeun hears the familiar rush of wind in her ears as she ascends to the playing field. The view of Hogwarts from this height never fails to make her heart beat a little faster: the castle in all its dark glory, the bubbles on the lake’s surface that signal the presence of the Giant Squid, the cheering crowd that explodes with life in tandem with Madam Jeong’s whistle. 

Jungeun keeps a steady grip on her heavy bat, feeling the electricity crackle down her right arm. 

“ _And that signals the start of today’s match! Ravenclaw captain Myoui Mina is immediately in possession of the Quaffle, seizing it just before Slytherin’s Kim Hyunjin — she passes it to Park Chaeyoung, back to Mina again — seems like they’re employing a new tactic under Myoui’s leadership –_ ,” Park Jihyo’s voice booms across the pitch, just barely louder than the cacophony of cheers emanating from the stands. 

Jungeun tunes her out, narrows her focus down to the two Bludgers streaking between the players. Normally, she and Hyejoo would fly high to get a vantage point and send Bludgers swinging down to oblivious Chasers, but Mina has modified her team’s formation to fly low, too low for the Bludgers to maintain their power at impact. Jungeun signals Hyejoo to enter the midfield and bat horizontally.

“ _Shin Ryujin breaches past Ravenclaw’s defenses — ooh, barely missing a Bludger from Choi Lia, nice evasive maneuver there — and it’s a one-on-one with Ravenclaw’s Keeper, Yoo Jeongyeon, my asshole best friend, aaand Ryujin scores! Ten points to Slytherin’s first goal! Get it together, Yoo!_ ” 

Jungeun flashes a thumbs up to Ryujin, who knocks her broom against Hyunjin’s in celebration. 

Even with Chaeyoung out of the commission, Jungeun is confident of their win against Ravenclaw; this season, their strategy is to rely on the Chasers’ speed and execution to rack up points and have Chaeyoung end the game with the Snitch when the other players become exhausted. Sooyoung is a force to be reckoned with, too, knowing how to utilize her lanky limbs to save more goals than Jungeun can count.

Ryujin scores another three goals, followed by two more from Hyunjin and one from Yeji. Mina continues barking out formation changes, but Jungeun can see the worry in her eyes even at a distance. 

“ _Ravenclaw’s third goal goes to Park Chaeyoung — nicely done, Rosé! The blue team has a lot of catching up to do if they want to advance to the sem — wait! Seems like Jung Jinsol has spotted the Snitch!_ ”

Shit. Jungeun’s head instinctively whips around, eyes locked on the Ravenclaw Seeker’s sharp descent. Her blonde hair, whipping straight up, makes it easy to spot her movements. 

(Jungeun lets herself have a brief second to appreciate its contrast against royal blue robes, then smothers the thought until it chokes into nothingness.)

It’s not hard to spot the Snitch flitting near the goalposts after Jinsol brought attention to it. The game narrows down to that single moment; the crowd gasps in anticipation as Jinsol swerves and rolls and dodges Slytherin’s attempts at blocking her. 

A tell-tale whistle catches Jungeun’s ear, growing louder by the second. A Bludger is coming her way. 

Jungeun’s mind goes into overdrive: 

_ETA one second._

Jinsol, arm outstretched, fingers twitching as she strains against her broom.

Jungeun swinging her heavy bat over her shoulder, ready to strike the incoming Bludger. 

A clear path…thirty meters to her eleven o’clock…fingers just about to graze the small golden ball…

_Jinsol’s hand._

_Jinsol’s hand._

_Jinsol’s hand._

Jungeun strikes the Bludger with all her might, sending it in Jinsol’s direction. The ball leaves with a _thwack_ and a ringing that thunders down her right arm. 

The plan was to knock Jinsol’s hand away and let the Snitch escape, but immediately, Jungeun realizes she overshot the hit. She swung too hard. 

_Shit_. 

She watches the ball streak away in slow-motion, dread sinking down her stomach. Jungeun wants to yell, _look out!_ , wants Jinsol to notice the heavy metal mass hurtling her way, but the crowd is holding its breath and Jungeun nearly falls off her own broom in panic and _finally_ Jinsol’s head turns imperceptibly at the whistle —

Jinsol’s eyes widen for that fraction of a second. 

_Thunk_. 

The Bludger collides with Jinsol’s temple, sending her careening into another Ravenclaw player.

“ _INJURY_ ,” Jihyo bellows, signaling the foul. Her voice is drowned by the cries of worry from the other students. 

The impact causes her broom to spin dangerously, and Jinsol, clearly disoriented, fails to regain control of her broom. Everyone else hovers, frozen in shock, as she plummets downwards. Her feet barely hit the ground before she collapses to her knees and Jungeun watches, horrified, as the girl raises a faint hand to her head, fingers drawing away bright red, visible even at Jungeun’s height. 

Jinsol passes out the second Jungeun lands, heart in her throat. The other players follow, abandoning the game at once. 

Madam Jeong beats her to it. “Jihyo, call Nurse Kim. Head trauma, possible concussion,” she hollers, cradling Jinsol’s head on her lap. 

Just two minutes ago, Jinsol was a streak of yellow and blue. Now, the blood is staining her bright hair, a watercolor burst of dark red. Jungeun wants to throw up. 

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god._

“Merlin,” Hyunjin breathes.

“Holy shit,” Hyejoo whispers.

“You killed her!” Yeojin cries. 

With that, Jungeun promptly hurls her breakfast at Yeojin’s feet. 

* * *

_The brilliant and often controversial headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore is most famous for his 1945 defeat of Grindelwald and —_

Jungeun scoffs and glares at the Chocolate Frog in her grasp, wiggling animatedly as if it didn’t know what a waste of a Sickle it was. It doesn’t, but forgive her for being a little peeved about receiving the single most common card, like, ever. No offense to the man himself. 

She attempts to shove the slippery fiend back into its container, but the frog resists and scrabbles its little toes against the walls of the packaging. It’s a battle between Jungeun’s hand and a bewitched chocolate bar, and she’s so determined to win that she fails to notice Jinsol stirring awake and blinking sleepily at her.

“Jungeun?”

“Gah!” The frog pops out of Jungeun’s fist. They both watch it hop towards the doors of the Hospital Wing. 

Waste of Sickle indeed. 

“He’s roadkill now,” Jinsol says solemnly. “Was the card at least worth something?”

Jungeun shakes her head. Her eyes are trained at the white pillow instead of the head resting on top of it. “Dumbledore.”

“Bummer.”

Silence. Jungeun knows she should answer something, but her stomach is churning with so much guilt that the words lodge at the back of her throat, refusing to come out the same way her Chocolate Frog refused to be shoved back between its four paper walls. 

“Jinsol, I –,”

“Hey.” A gentle hand rests on her arm. Jungeun looks up to see Jinsol smiling nervously at her, her oddly straight eyebrows made even more prominent by the bandage wrapped around her forehead. “No need to apologize, okay? It was an accident. And honestly, I’m fine. Nothing hurts. I’ve never been better!”

“That’s because Nurse Kim drugged you up with so many healing potions that you were out for a whole day,” Jungeun informs her.

Jinsol frowns. “Oh. Was it really that bad?” 

Jungeun scratches the back of her head. “Yeah…the hit gave you a concussion, but I think most of the damage came from the fall. Um, a twisted ankle, broken ribs, and, uh…,” she winces.

“What?” Jinsol asks impatiently.

“Two fractured wrists. Nurse Kim says you’re banned from Quidditch for at least two weeks.” 

Jinsol groans. “Are you kidding me?” She lifts her right hand and shakes it at Jungeun. “Does this seem fractured to you?”

“Uh.” Her hand does seem a little limp. 

“I can still totally snatch the Snitch out of thin air. That’s it, I’m forming a student labor union for Quidditch players so Nurse Kim will never be able to bully us like this again.” Jungeun does nothing but watch as Jinsol dramatically throws aside the covers before slamming back down on the bed. “Nevermind, that hurts.”

Right. “I brought a Chocolate Frog to cheer you up.” She rummages in her pocket for the snack. Jinsol makes a ‘gimme’ gesture and immediately nibbles on the chocolate, sighing contentedly against her pillow. 

“Ugh, I love these,” she moans. 

In the span of a millisecond, Jungeun undergoes what she can only describe as having her face dunked in a deep fryer then smothered with a lovely blend of garlic and diced chili peppers. 

“...nice,” is all she manages to reply. If Jinsol notices the blush creeping up her cheeks, she doesn’t point it out. 

“I thought you hated them,” the blonde says, though it sounded more like, “I thof you hayed em,” with the gigantic chunk of chocolate in her mouth.

“Yeah, actually I — wait, what?” How did _Jinsol_ know that? 

This time, Jinsol swallows before she answers, “You told me that we were younger. We were in a compartment together at the Hogwarts Express as first-years, remember?”

Jungeun is stunned. “You…remember that?”

“Of corth.”

Just as Jungeun tries to formulate a reply that doesn’t entirely give away the feelings that have been festering in her for half a decade, someone places a hand on her shoulder from behind.

Jungeun nearly jumps out of her skin. Jesus, Nurse Kim needs to wear a cowbell or something. 

“It’s nearly curfew, Ms. Kim. Might be best for you to return to your dorm now. I’ll keep Ms. Jung in good shape.” The older woman shoots a motherly smile at Jinsol, setting a few medicine bottles on the nightstand. 

“O-okay.” Jungeun brushes off imaginary dust from her lap and stands, feeling two pairs of eyes staring at her. “I hope you feel better, Jinsol. Uh, bye.”

“Wait!” She feels a hand around her wrist. “Will you be back again tomorrow?” The bandages accentuate Jinsol’s adorable pout and Jungeun feels the urge to kick herself for some inexplicable reason. 

“S-sure.” 

Jinsol beams at her. 

* * *

Jungeun’s throat lets out a screech akin to the sound of a train running at full speed. Thankfully for the entirety of the Slytherin dorms, It’s suppressed by the pillow Hyejoo is forcing down on her face. 

“Alright, it’s been half a minute. Let her up,” Sooyoung commands. Hyejoo complies, and Jungeun shoots her a dirty look while she struggles to regain her breathing.

“Fuck you lot,” she spits. “Bunch of dirty, no-good, _evil_ –,”

“Sorry, Jungeun. We love you, but listening to you talk about Jinsol is like watching drama channels on YouTube during celebrity fuck-up season,” Hyejoo shrugs.

Jungeun pants. “I don’t understand that reference.”

“It gets a little repetitive,” Hyunjin supplies helpfully. 

Sooyoung rolls her eyes. “Don’t downplay it. I’ve had to hear you talk your head off about that girl for three years, I should’ve known how obnoxious you’d get after holding an actual conversation with her. I _cannot_ believe you spent five hours in the Hospital Wing just staring at her.”

“Well, that’s five hours I didn’t have to spend with you, so I count that as a win,” Jungeun snaps. She flings a foot at Sooyoung, who easily pushes it away. It hits Hyejoo’s shoulder instead, causing her to glower at Jungeun. Hyunjin snorts at the entire display.

This is _her_ bed, damn it. Jungeun will not tolerate the disrespect.

“Out.” She points an authoritative finger at the door. “All of you, get out. You gremlins are causing my brain cells to self-destruct, and I need them to create an accurate reproduction of my earlier conversation with Jinsol that I can replay over and over until my brain turns to mush. So scram.” 

Sooyoung scoffs and buries herself even further into the covers. “I sleep here, dumbass.”

“I don’t want to go. Ryujin and Yeji are probably making out again in our room, and listening to them makes me lovesick,” Hyunjin whines.

Hyejoo, who is suddenly the only witch in the house that Jungeun has ever respected, reluctantly complies. “Come on, Hyun. If Nayeon catches us here, we’ll end up worse than having to listen to those weirdos giggle all night.”

The two Fifth-Years bid them goodnight, and then it’s just Jungeun and Sooyoung on Jungeun’s bed. The room is uncharacteristically silent considering that Chaeyoung, their other roommate, is most likely holed up in the Hufflepuff dorms with her girlfriend. Jungeun envies Nayeon’s unfounded affection for the punk. 

“Sooyoung?”

“Hmm?”

“Jinsol doesn’t hate me.”

Sooyoung scoots to lean against the headboard next to her. “And why does your tone suggest that that’s a problem?”

Jungeun runs a hand through her hair. The tinted windows cast dark moving shadows on the room, bathing them in murky green light. For once, she’s grateful that Sooyoung can’t guess her emotions from sight alone.

“I just…this evening, she talked to me like it was nothing. I was so anxious my guts were twisting inside and out, and when she woke up, she talked to me like a stranger. Like nothing happened between us all these years.”

“To be fair, Jungie, it’s been a really long time since you guys fought,” Sooyoung says gently. “She probably understood why you kept your distance and moved on.”

“But that’s the thing! I ruined a friendship because, what, she saw with other people on the train? Come on, even for an eleven-year-old, that was stupid.” Jungeun exhales. “I just — all this time, I thought she resented me for never reaching out as we grew up, but I guess she never thought about me at all.” 

Sooyoung mulls over her words. “Isn’t this good? The only reason why you’ve never approached her, aside from blushing like a crab every time you see her face, is because you’re scared that she’s still mad at you. Now you’re saying that the bridge was never burned, and the black spots are probably just mold instead of the charred remnants of your failed friendship. This is your chance!” 

“I don’t know,” Jungeun sighs. then bends to rummage under her bed. “Let the Chocolate Frog talk.”

“I swear, your Patronus is going to end up being a Chocolate Frog, and I’m not saying this ironically.”

“I’ll lock myself up under the Whomping Willow overnight if that ever happens.” Jungeun opens the package, pokes around the snack, and pulls out the card. “Aha.”

Neville Longbottom stares back at her grimly, with soot on his forehead and the sword of Godric Gryffindor slung over one shoulder. Jungeun wants to cry. She doesn’t even bother to read the ‘Second Wizarding War Collection!’ tag on the bottom of the picture before flinging it back under the bed, right next to thirty identical copies of that same card. “I’m doomed.”

“God, you’re a mess.” Sooyoung extracts herself from Jungeun’s bed and makes her way over to her own, making sure to land a soft kick to Jungeun’s shin. “Go to sleep before you overthink.”

“Too late,” Jungeun mumbles face-down on her pillow.

Her Chocolate Frog divination is always right. Neville Longbottom, with his mass-produced picture and familiar brooding face, is equivalent to a stormy black cloud.

Damn it.

* * *

Belatedly, Jungeun realizes that it would’ve been a good idea to wrestle a brush through her disheveled hair before going to meet the ~~crush~~ ~~friend~~ acquaintance(?) she accidentally bludgeoned. 

It’s too late, though. Jinsol, clearly surprised from the way Jungeun barged in without warning, pauses in the midst of braiding her hair and blinks straight back at Jungeun. The bandages are gone, but there’s a fading bruise on her temple that seems to be shrinking as they speak. 

The doors of the Hospital Wing swing close, echoing across the wide room.

“Hi,” Jungeun blurts. A sudden thought rams into her mind: was Jinsol just friendly with her yesterday because she was doped up on healing potions? Fuck. Her hands feel clammy. 

Then, Jinsol smiles, the kind that makes her eyes scrunch up into crescents and forces Jungeun’s heart into overdrive. She motions for Jungeun to come closer and resumes threading her hands through her hair. “Hey, you came! I thought you were going to come a bit later, though.”

“Yeah, I, um,” Jungeun clears her throat, “I wanted to ask if you wanted to get breakfast. With me. Just, uh, as an apology for Quidditch. Not that I’m only asking you out of remorse! I mean — wait, why are you laughing?”

Still smiling, Jinsol shakes her head and moves to tuck the bedsheets under the mattress. “Well, someone’s nervous,” she teases. 

Jungeun retaliates by poking the blonde’s cheekbone, right under the bruise. 

“Hey!” Jinsol hisses and doubles over in pain. 

Jungeun freezes. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to –,”

The Ravenclaw, clearly fine, tosses her hair back and winks at a dumbfounded Jungeun. “So, breakfast?”

They reach the Great Hall in record speed, half-jogging in an attempt to sate Jinsol’s appetite (“Nurse Kim must’ve force-fed me two gallons of pumpkin juice last night. Apparently, it’s good for my concussion or whatever. Still gross.” “Hey, pumpkin juice is delicious!”)

Jungeun’s eyes immediately stray to the Slytherin table, but to her confusion, none of her friends are there. 

That’s odd. Sooyoung clearly said they would meet her at breakfast when she rushed out of the common room this morning.

She feels a tug on the elbow of her robes. “Look.” Jinsol tilts her chin towards the Ravenclaw table, where a group of people wearing colors that are distinctly not blue are crowded together. With a start, Jungeun recognizes Hyejoo’s slouch and Yeojin’s dumpling hair buns. 

Sure, they don’t sit in the Slytherin table _all_ the time — Hyunjin often drags them to the Gryffindors to be with Heejin and Jungeun has developed a slight Pavlovian fear when approaching the Hufflepuff table due to the number of times Hyejoo has leveled threats at her and Hyunjin when they whine about being third-wheels — but they’ve certainly never sat in the Ravenclaw section, either. Jungeun is about to rub her eyes again when a familiar blonde figure jumps from her seat. 

“Jinsol!” Chaewon waves excitedly. A purple-haired girl, who Jungeun knows is a Fifth-Year named Yerim, brightens up at the sight of them. 

Jungeun walks over to Sooyoung, who is currently fighting over the last slice of apple pie with Hyejoo, and slides into the seat next to her. Across them, Yeojin is wailing at the sight of Haseul aggressively slicing bananas and depositing them in a pile on her younger sister’s plate, while Vivi is working with equal fervor to peel the fruits and supply them to Haseul. 

“Hey, Chae,” Jinsol says brightly, taking a seat next to Haseul and pulling Jungeun next to her. “Didn’t know I was popular enough to have groupies waiting for me.” Hyejoo snorts into her pumpkin juice. 

Jungeun grabs a slice of toast. _Groupies_. She contemplates the unfamiliar Muggle word in her head. _I guess it makes sense. We_ are _a group of people._ She kicks Hyunjin’s foot under the table, who lifts her head from Heejin’s shoulder and shrugs in equal puzzlement. 

Her foot must’ve gone astray because it hits someone else. To Hyunjin’s left, Jiwoo perks up and lets out a “Hiiiii!” with a pitch that rivals the scream of a baby Mandrake. Jungeun returns a smile, ears accustomed to the sound from their time as partners in Potions classes last year.

“We made a welcome back banner and everything!” Yerim pipes up. She ducks under the table, takes the banner, and proceeds to proudly unroll an appalling crayon rendition of Jinsol as a mermaid, with her bright blonde hair sticking out in frizzes and a ‘Hope You Didn’t Lose Too Many Braincellz!!!’ written beneath. “Heejin drew this!”

“Hey, don’t try to pin this on me!” Heejin yells, taking offense. “It’s clearly Chaewon’s work. Look at the tail! I would never create a gradient from lavender to chartreuse. This is an insult to the art society.”

“Is not! Jiwoo was the one who went overboard with the crayons!”

When Jiwoo chimes in to defend herself, Jungeun takes the opportunity to elbow Sooyoung’s side. “Uh, what’s going on? Why are we sitting at the nerd table?” she mutters.

Sooyoung blinks and seemingly realizes that Jungeun has been sitting there for a while. “Oh, well, we saw Heejin, Yerim, Chaewon, and Jiwoo sitting here together waiting for Jinsol, and Chaewon called for Hyejoo so duh, the rest of us had to come with. Then, Vivi and Haseul came and dragged, like, literally dragged Yeojin with them. Apparently she was teaching the other Slytherin Third-Years how to Transfigure peanut butter into fountain ink so that they could switch it out with Professor Nam’s bottle, who is _deathly_ allergic to peanuts. Haseul was rattling on about something called a low shoot, or maybe it was lawsuit? for twenty minutes. I think they were just trying to get as far away from the Slytherin table as possible. Anyway, when did you get here?”

“Ten minutes ago,” Jungeun rolls her eyes. What’s gotten Sooyoung so distracted, anyway?

Out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees Hyunjin and Heejin making out near the pot roast and makes a pointed decision to look away. What she sees next is no better: Haseul’s face is red as the Gryffindor banners hanging across the walls as she struggles to keep Jiwoo and Chaewon under a headlock while trying to fend off Yeojin’s attempts to cheer them on by throwing banana peels at her sister. 

Without her realizing, Jungeun’s eyes stray past them towards Jinsol, who is talking animatedly to a nodding Vivi. Her blonde hair catches the morning light filtering through the window panels behind her, and Jungeun swears she’s _glowing_. Like, sparkles in her eyes and everything. The blue-and-silver striped tie around the collar of Jinsol’s blouse is wrapped in a haphazard knot and Jungeun’s fingers itch to pull it towards her and redo it neatly, fingers thumbing over the cotton as she stands a breath apart from Jinsol. 

Wait. 

Jiwoo’s voice snaps her back into reality. Jungeun turns just in time to see the girl blushing into her lap and mumbling, “T-thanks, Sooyoung.” 

Sooyoung’s eyes grow soft, the way it does for snowflakes twinkling in the air and the glow of the sunset rippling across the lake, the way Jungeun knows is reserved for baby swans and Hyejoo’s tears and Second-Years fumbling with their broomstick during Quidditch tryouts. 

A Muggle phrase that Hyejoo has drilled into her through excessive usage swims around in her mind: _inch resting_.

Apparently, Jungeun isn’t the only one who noticed. Past the mini food fight between Yeojin, Yerim, Chaewon, and Hyejoo, Jinsol catches her eye and jerks a thumb at Sooyoung and Jiwoo. “Whipped,” she mouths. 

“Whipped,” Jungeun agrees, flashing a thumbs up. Jinsol beams at the display of support.

She’ll have to ask Hyejoo what that means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i revived my twitter from the dead @sleepyshamrocks so hmu if you want to be friends! i also have a tumblr @queersupergirls.
> 
> comments literally fuel my being so 1 comment = 1 dish i promise i'll wash. my sink needs help.
> 
> p.s. please do tell me if you spot any mistakes!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jungeun dukes it out with a carpet. lipsoul break curfew to do jock activities. haseul is tired of being Responsible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew this was a little hard to write for some reason. i re-edited this over and over until i eventually got sick of it and, well. here we are now. 
> 
> enjoy!

With the Christmas holidays right around the corner, most of the nicer professors have eased off on the intensity of their NEWT courses, choosing to cram lighter materials as much as possible before the second semester begins its assault. 

Jungeun, for one, isn’t complaining. The feeling of impending doom that shadows them seems like a problem for future her. 

“Honestly, it only took me an hour to shit out that Chocolate Frog Hyunjin hexed to life. 3/10 experience, would _not_ recommend,” Chaeyoung says, eyebrows furrowed as she scans for the next section of the moving staircase. 

“So you’re back on the team?” Sooyoung inquires. She looks stunning, as usual, and Jungeun envies her self-proclaimed 1/4096 Veela heritage. Her entire face feels as crusty as the bottom of a sizzling pan. 

Chaeyoung grimaces as they step into the corridors. “I don’t know, guys. Tzuyu is getting a little mad by the number of times I’ve pulled a Wronski Feint. She said that my height makes me prone to sliding off my broom. I don’t know what she’s talking about!”

“Face it, Son. Even a garden gnome can take you out in a fight,” a male voice sniggers from behind them. Chaeyoung gives him the finger without turning around. 

“Besides,” Mingyu continues, “we all know that size is really what matters. Right, Jungeun?” 

“Sounds like a you problem to me,” Jungeun deadpans. She’s not a hundred percent sure what that means, but Hyejoo gave her a handwritten scroll of useful canned responses to stop a conversation for her birthday ten months ago and she’s been looking for an opportunity to put it into good use.

Mingyu slinks between her and the wall with a wide smile, and the scent of his cologne pierces Jungeun’s nostrils as she struggles not to sneeze on his ten-Galleon haircut. “Got any plans for the holidays?”

“Why? Are you going to stalk me?”

“Of course not. My dad rented a massive villa in the Swiss Alps, so we’re skiing for the rest of December. He and my uncles are planning to use a summoning spell to conjure the Northern Lights. It’s gonna be _epic_.”

Jungeun rolls her eyes. “I’m not interested.”

Mingyu tilts his head in confusion. “But I wasn’t offering anything.”

“Then why did you name the location if you weren’t trying to drop hints?” Sooyoung butts in. “It’s textbook fuckwizard behavior.”

“What does _that_ mean –,”

“Whatever, Mingyu. Leave it for the Gryffindors.” 

The con: Every Monday, Jungeun dreams up an elaborate heist scenario in her head where she breaks into the Ministry of Magic to steal a Time-Turner and uses it to beat her Fifth-Year self up for agreeing to take Defense Against the Dark Arts as a morning class. Professor Lee enjoys grinding them into metaphorical dust each lesson, and Jungeun prefers to maintain her fully-formed being, thank you very much.

The pro: Shooting stunning spells at Mingyu is looking really tempting right now. 

The seven of them walk past the open mahogany door and enter the classroom just as the bell starts to chime. The desks and chairs have been pushed against the walls, leaving the center of the room bare: a tell-tale sign of Professor Lee’s practical lessons. 

Jungeun pumps a fist. The other Slytherins grin, taking their wands out of their pockets. 

It’s when she recognizes a familiar squeal and red hair that she realizes the uncharacteristic multitude of students from different Houses in their class. There are five or so Hufflepuffs and twice as many Ravenclaws are milling around, waiting for the class to start.

The atmosphere already feels lighter than the usual Mondays Jungeun is used to. Slytherins and Gryffindors are usually tolerant of each other at best, hostile at worst. It doesn’t help that neither Haseul and Vivi, universally beloved even to the Slytherins, are taking this class, thereby providing no buffer between the two Houses. 

“Jungeun! Sooyoung!” Jiwoo skips over with a peppiness misplaced for a morning DADA class. Behind her, someone else trails along: Jinsol. 

Jungeun’s eyes widen. 

Jinsol has her hair in a French braid, high and pretty and accentuating the sharpness of her jawline. Jungeun tries to suppress a smile at first — she has a reputation to uphold, and it’s certainly not the result of smiling at every pretty girl she meets — but Jinsol pokes a teasing finger on her shoulder and Jungeun can’t help but reciprocate it, whispering, “good morning,” to the blonde. 

Sooyoung clears her throat. “Hey, Jiwoo.”

An awkward silence descends. Jungeun nudges her friend, expecting her to ask the obvious question, but Sooyoung just continues shuffling her feet nervously like she’s imitating some sort of Albanian jester dance. 

Does she have to do everything around here? “How come you guys are in this class?” Jungeun prompts. “It’s usually just us and the Gryffindors.” 

Jinsol shrugs. “The timetables updated on their own this morning. Jiwoo and I are missing Transfiguration right now, which is a shame because I _really_ wanted to Transfigure her bangs into nonexistence.”

Before Jiwoo can protest, Professor Lee calls for their attention, herding over thirty-something students from all four Houses. Jungeun tries to focus on listening to Professor Lee’s explanation about Professor Son’s absence, which has something to do with dragonpox and an unfortunate encounter with petite house-lizards that breathe fire, but she’s hyperaware of Jinsol standing next to her, biting her lip and tugging on her too-long sleeve. 

She and Jinsol have shared classes a number of times throughout their years at Hogwarts, but never like this, never as friends. Jungeun would always partner with Sooyoung for everything, which doesn’t always translate well for the both of them; two purebloods working together on an assignment for Muggle Studies will never be able to produce stellar expositions on the functions of an e-scooter, despite what the odd ‘KEEP CALM’ posters plastered on the walls keep yelling at them.

This is…new. The way Jinsol tugs on her arm when Professor Lee instructs them to partner up is new. The knowing smirk on Sooyoung’s face as she pushes Jungeun towards Jinsol is new. The heat that surfaces on Jungeun’s cheeks as she stumbles into position is…admittedly not new. 

She’s too busy trying to will her blush back to where it came from that she doesn’t notice Sooyoung’s smirk morphing into shock when Professor Lee wheels in a large antique wardrobe. It’s only when she overhears Jiwoo asking if everything’s alright that she lifts her head and feels the blood drain from her face. 

The wardrobe is _alive_ , shaking and groaning in place as if something is trying to break free from inside. Even Professor Lee takes a step back, marveling at the writhing shadows it casts across the classroom. The students look at each other nervously, whispering among themselves. _That’s a boggart_ , they murmur. _It digs around your brain until it finds what terrifies you to death and manifests as your deepest, darkest fears._

A couple of people gasp in wonder. They’re curious, intrigued by the idea of such a creature existing in nature, thrilled by the prospect of besting one themselves. _A boggart! Professor Lee is bringing out the big guns._

Jungeun’s stomach lurches. She knew, of course, that this would be part of the curriculum, but she didn’t expect it to be this soon. And especially not now, with people from the other three Houses present. 

Something sharp and sour and familiar coats her tongue. Bile. 

Without having to turn around, she feels the pain stinging in each of her housemates, that quiet understanding they share from personal experience and hushed confessions laced with bitterness. 

Sooyoung, whose mother used to drag her by the arm to the attic whenever she misbehaved, even when seven-year-old Jungeun was around at the Has’ for dinner. Sooyoung would come back teary-eyed and sniffling, and afterward she would wail in Jungeun’s arms about dogs with sharp teeth and evil clowns who laugh too hard.

Chaeyoung, who stays over at Tzuyu’s dorm whenever she has nightmares about her family. She never talks about it with them, but Jungeun likes to wrap a breakfast cookie with tissue paper and place it on Chaeyoung’s bed whenever she comes back. 

Seoyeon, who cries by the fireplace in the common room after being shouted at by a Howler bearing her father’s voice during meals. 

Wonwoo, whose brother is in Azkaban. Jungeun knows he refuses to get out of bed sometimes when things get too heavy. She also knows that Mingyu often stays with him. Whenever they’re not in class and the Slytherin hourglass loses a thousand points out of nowhere, the other Sixth-Years always keep their mouth shut. 

Jungeun stares at the wardrobe in the center of the class, feeling the pounding in her head start to race. She doesn’t want to think about home; not now, not when she only has a few days left in Hogwarts before she’s shipped back to that place for the holidays. 

The sight of a Boggart used to choke her, used to make her feel like a vine was slithering somewhere deep inside her chest, its thorns clawing through her lungs. 

Now, Jungeun just takes an aggravated breath. Fuck it. One of those creatures resides in her house; she knows exactly what’s going to step out of that wardrobe. She’s not going to lose sleep over this. 

“Hey,” Jinsol whispers. “You okay?”

Jungeun gives her a small smile and nods. “Yeah. I was just surprised, that’s all.” She cranes her neck and spots Sooyoung’s pale, stricken face behind a group of Gryffindors not too far away. 

Jungeun is about to walk over like she’s done a hundred times before, but then a boy moves from her line of vision. Jiwoo has a hand on Sooyoung’s shoulder, taking deep breaths to entice the Slytherin into doing the same. She’s murmuring something too low for Jungeun to catch, but it seems to be working: Sooyoung straightens herself and exhales before whispering something back to Jiwoo, nodding to herself in reassurance. 

“I wonder what mine will be,” Jinsol continues, shuffling into the line that’s forming in front of the Boggart. After taking a few seconds to ensure that Sooyoung really is fine, Jungeun slips after her. Better for Jinsol not to be right behind her when the thing steps out. 

Honestly, none of this is ideal, but she figures that she’s had enough practice to be able to conjure a vacuum cleaner and finish up before anyone can comprehend what they’re seeing. 

“You don’t have any hidden traumas, do you?” she jokes. Jinsol spins around and — 

Oh. That’s…close. Jungeun almost takes a step back at the proximity, but her spatial awareness prevents her from shimmying up against Mark Lee. Jinsol’s hair smells nice, at least. Soft and sweet, like a garden bursting with flowers. Lavender. 

“Not if you count my totally legitimate fear of having my head smashed in by a Bludger,” she teases. “What about you? What do you think yours will be?”

Jungeun scoffs. “A glorified carpet. I’ll conjure a vacuum cleaner and poof.” She makes an exploding motion with both hands. “Done.”

“Wait, you already know your Boggart?”

Jungeun laughs awkwardly. “They’re, uh, pretty common where I live.”

Jinsol eyes her curiously, but before she can say anything, Professor Lee calls for their attention. 

“Alright, let’s begin our class.” The noise quiets down immediately. “I’ll perform the spell first, and I expect all of you to repeat it in the exact manner.” He walks over to the wardrobe, and right before he pulls the knob, he turns back to face his students. Everyone holds their breath, including Jungeun. 

“Remember, the spell –,”

As soon as he unleashes the Boggart, the living, writhing shadow twists itself into a baby carriage with a pink teddy bear perched on the armrest. She’s too far to see what’s inside, but Jungeun can already guess by the brief flicker of anger that flashes on Professor Lee’s face. 

“ – is _Riddikulus_!” 

The Boggart roars as it is forcibly morphed, the contraption collapsing on itself until the baby carriage transforms into an innocent beach chair. Striped umbrella at all. 

“Alright.” Professor Lee claps his hands. “Now that I have demonstrated the spell, as per the theory we have discussed during the chapter introduction, we shall continue to practice banishing our fear one by one. Mr. Jung, care to start?”

The Hufflepuff boy at the front of the line, Jung Jaehyun, gulps as he raises his wand with a shaky hand. 

“Come on, now. Everyone is afraid of something!”

Jaehyun takes a deep breath. The beach chair vibrates and morphs again, its wooden legs sprouting into live furry ones that scuttle on the floor. The giant spider hisses at Jaehyun, who yells a faint ' _Riddikulus'_ ' and turns it into a yapping Labrador. 

For the most part, Jungeun has to suppress a yawn. Her classmates’ fears are so…painfully mundane. She isn’t looking for blackmail material or anything of the sort, but god, they could’ve at least been entertaining to watch. Heights, an office job, a disembodied voice, a shark. Before she knows it, ten people have gone by and not a single one of them had an interesting fear. 

Even worse, Jinsol’s eyes have been glued to the multitude of forms the Boggart keeps shifting into, and Jungeun doesn’t have enough small talk material to justify tapping on her shoulder and engaging her in a conversation. She could say, _haha, is Bambam seriously afraid of sentient watermelons_ , but something tells her Jinsol isn’t going to laugh. So she sucks it up and attempts to minimize the number of eyerolls because damn, her eyes are really starting to ache. 

Before she knows it, Taeil finishes turning his standing microphone into a pacifier and moves aside to make way for Jinsol. Jungeun peers over her shoulder curiously. She has no idea what Jinsol fears, which isn’t surprising, but her mind can’t help but run with guesses. Will it be something Muggle-related that she won’t understand? Will it be bad grades on an exam, as typical of a Ravenclaw? One of their teachers? The Giant Squid? Losing a friend? Hair bleach? 

To Jungeun’s disappointment, the Boggart reveals itself to be none of those options. Instead, Jinsol stands in front of a boy in Ravenclaw robes. He’s tall, with bright, wide eyes and dark hair styled in a soft, boyish manner. Cute, maybe, if Jungeun were into that (which she isn’t), but he looks so painfully familiar that she immediately racks her brain to figure out where she’s seen him before.

Then, the guy opens his mouth. His voice is eerily airy, as if the sound isn’t coming out of his throat but emanating from his entire being instead. An echo trying to be heard. Jungeun feels a shiver down her spine. 

“Seriously, it’s not what you think. If you don’t believe me, then that’s your fault.” His expression is terribly off-putting, like the Boggart tried its best to emote but ended up south in the uncanny valley instead. His handsome features just look dead. Where has she seen him before?

“ _Ri_ \- _ridi - ,_ ” Jinsol’s voice wavers. Jungeun can’t see her face, but she can feel the discomfort is rolling off Jinsol in waves. The boy repeats the two sentences again and again, but Jinsol still can’t finish the spell. Even Professor Lee is starting to look concerned. 

“You can do this,” Jungeun murmurs into blonde hair. Jinsol’s shoulders jump a little, and although she doesn’t turn around, her back straightens and she raises her wand again, her hand sure and steady this time.

“ _Riddikulus!_ ”

The Boggart stares blankly as his robes begin to change size and color, transforming into a very odd ensemble of loose khakis, an apron-like cloth tied backward around his waist, a maroon tank top, and a cropped vest. It leaves him looking, well, ridiculous, and someone shouts, “you rock, Jung!” from the back. 

Jungeun doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to be dressed in, but she claps supportively anyway as Jinsol shoots her a grateful smile and moves to the other side of the classroom where the rest of the finished students wait. 

It’s her turn. She takes the step forward.

The Boggart, still in the form of the Ravenclaw boy, tilts its head and peers at her. The knowledge that it’s creeping through the privacy of her mind causes anger to bubble low in Jungeun’s stomach. She clenched her jaw in anticipation.

The noise in the classroom fades away. The moment boils down to her and the creature, and in the brief second that it takes to morph, she wonders if this Boggart would be kinder than the one she’s already acquainted with. 

Apparently not. Jungeun glares at the tapestry floating calmly in front of her face. It’s an inanimate piece of decorative furniture, for Merlin’s sake, yet the image woven into the silk and cotton is undoubtedly taunting her, just like it has for the past ten years. 

She barely takes a moment to stare at the fabricated likeness of herself dead in the eye before hissing, “ _Riddikulus_.”

Just as she told Jinsol, a vacuum cleaner appears out of thin air and begins to wreak havoc on the tapestry, tearing the fabric apart until it begins to unravel. The Boggart tries to tug itself away, but the vacuum cleaner responds even more aggressively and starts chewing it to death. 

Her shoulders are heaving from the effort, and yet Jungeun feels vindictive: no Boggart is going to get the best of her. Never again. 

The other students are whispering, probably wondering what the hell they just saw. She doesn’t bother to spare them a glance as she walks over to the other side of the class. 

Jinsol moves from her spot to stand beside her, clearly eager to ask the same thing, but Jungeun avoids her eyes and pretends to be occupied with the next student in line. If she notices Jinsol’s face falling from the rejection, she doesn’t show it. 

Does she want to tell Jinsol? They’re most likely friends now, even though neither has explicitly said it out loud, but it’s not like Jungeun shares her depressing family history to everyone she’s friends with. Hell, even Hyunjin and Hyejoo only know bits and pieces. Sooyoung is the only person who understands the full extent of it, and that’s because they grew up in families who would share discipline methods with each other as casually as noodle recipes. Every bruise she received growing up, Sooyoung has one too. 

Does she want to tell Jinsol?

 _No_ , Jungeun decides resolutely. She doesn’t need Jinsol’s doe eyes staring at her in pity. Not when their friendship is still precarious, built on a couple of recent interactions and mutual friends. 

Besides, what was Jinsol’s Boggart all about? She didn’t seem afraid, just uncomfortable. Who was he? Why can’t Jungeun place her finger on him? She’s definitely not jealous of some boy who probably lived in the same common room as Jinsol and is apparently important enough to turn out as her Boggart, right?

Right?

So while Jungeun’s eyes feign interest at next Boggart iterations for the rest of the class, her brain is stewing in the awkwardness of wanting to talk to Jinsol (she’s right _there_ , damn it! Just say something!) but not wanting to acknowledge that she pointedly ignored her the first time. 

And now that they’re both standing next to each other, it’s super duper _extra_ awkward because Jungeun is sure that Jinsol is secretly glancing at her every few seconds, which she only knows because she’s doing the same thing. The tension only breaks when Sooyoung walks over to them looking dejected, and Jungeun instantly feels guilty for missing her best friend’s turn before catching herself and thinking, _wait, I’ve seen her Boggart a hundred times_.

“Hey, guys,” Sooyoung sighs, running a hand through her hair. “That was intense, huh?”

Now Jungeun and Jinsol have to look at each other in an are-you-going-to-respond-first way, and surprise surprise, Jungeun is the first to look away. “Uhh, yeah.”

“Mm hmm. Definitely,” Jinsol agrees quickly. 

Sooyoung continues talking, oblivious to the weird stand-off she walked in on. “At least it’s nearly over. No offense, but half of these people live really boring lives.”

A couple of nearby Gryffindors and Ravenclaws shoot her dirty looks, which she ignores. Jungeun doesn’t know how to respond without looking like an ass (even though she does agree), so her lips remain shut. Sooyoung doesn’t notice her lack of response either, too busy ogling at the fairy lights Jiwoo conjured to fend off her fear of darkness. 

Since Jiwoo was one of the last people to go, the four of them only have time to make small talk about meeting up during lunch before the bell starts to ring, a jarring reminder that only an hour of their morning has passed. 

Jinsol parts with a soft, “see you later,” as she leaves with the other Ravenclaws. Jungeun watches her walk away up until the group turns left in a corner and disappears from sight. Something about their interaction leaves her feeling woozy, like she missed a step going down the stairs and caught herself almost a beat too late. 

“Whipped,” Sooyoung coughs into a fist.

Jungeun elbows her, hard enough for Sooyoung to yelp and jump away. “Don’t.”

“Oh, come on. I was watching you two the entire time I was waiting in line. You kept looking at her like someone drugged your breakfast with Amortentia,” Sooyoung cackles, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. “Honestly, I’m surprised your Boggart wasn’t you having to talk to a pretty girl.”

They’re about to be late to Transfiguration, but none of the Slytherins are in a rush. Professor Hwang plays favorites and luckily, he’s the Head of their House. The Gryffindors waiting for them must be seething right now. 

“Tease me all you want. I know you’re just distracting yourself from the memory of Mommy dearest,” Jungeun says dryly. 

Sooyoung’s teasing expression turns into a sneer. “Low blow, Kim,” she sniffs. “I was promised a 98-day respite from her. Professor Lee was mad wrong to cut that short.”

“Hey, maybe she’ll be off in another ‘business vacation’,” Jungeun air quotes, “with her Bulgarian assistant again. If that happens, you can come to my house. I’ll sneak you in through the House Elves’ chambers like last time.”

Sooyoung rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I know you just need me to put a hand over your eyes when we walk up the staircase to your room.” 

“Shut up, Ha.”

* * *

Jungeun ends up bailing on lunch. Sooyoung calls her weird and tells her to _stop finding excuses to avoid your girl_ when she tries to explain the so-called wooziness, but promises to relay a made-up message to the others. Sooyoung is usually more obnoxious in her teasing, so Jungeun appreciates the help; she doesn’t think she has the guts to sit face-to-face with Jinsol for an hour.

She goes back to the common room and lies down on the couch in front of the fireplace instead, which, in retrospect, isn’t a better idea. The crackle of the logs induces the perfect level of white noise to aid one in overthinking.

The rest of her classes pass in a blur. Jungeun can’t find it in herself to concentrate. Her mind is wandering off on its own, propelled by half-formed thoughts and weak, malleable attempts at justifying each one. There’s a picture in her head and all she has to do is connect the dots to form the image, but she’s struggling to string any of the points together and create a coherent train of thought. 

Blonde hair glowing against royal blue robes.

An echo of a Ravenclaw boy with dead eyes.

Her name and face branded on the family tree.

Snow-frosted pine trees that go on for miles and miles past the window bars in her room at home.

A little girl clutching her stomach in laughter as she shares a Chocolate Frog with two other girls while Jungeun watches from the opposite side of the glass that separates them, heart trampled by each passenger scolding her to move along the corridor. 

“ – and I expect no less than two rolls, handwritten and spell-checked, by my desk first thing tomorrow morning. Dismissed!”

The screech of thirty chairs scraping against the stone floor jars her back into reality. Jungeun glances down at her Charms essay. The only thing written on the parchment is her name, the title of the assignment, and the due date. 

Crap. There’s no way she’ll be able to cram this during breakfast, which leaves her two equally undesirable options: beg her professor for an extension or skip dinner to rush to the library and jot down whatever comes to mind before curfew starts in two hours. 

Two knocks ring from the front of the room. Jungeun looks up to see the professor glaring at her, knuckle resting ominously on the wooden desk. “Well? Are you leaving?”

One undesirable option, then.

With a huff, she slings her bookbag over one shoulder and trudges towards the library, away from the cacophony of hundreds of starving students rushing to the Great Hall. She ponders turning around and grabbing a quick bite, but there’s an infinitesimal chance that she’ll be able to avoid Hyunjin’s barrage of inane chatter or Hyejoo’s curious prodding and finish up on time. 

She’ll have to substitute lunch _and_ dinner with the contraband Honeydukes snacks stashed under her bed. Great.

The library is unsurprisingly empty when she enters. Jungeun immediately starts working on her essay, detailing the properties of the Caterwauling Charm and the effects of a supposed integration with Muggle security technology. The argumentation is relatively easy, if only because she has a habit of partially tuning in to Hyejoo’s regular rants about the alarming frequency of B&Es in her neighborhood. 

The Muggle world seems so bleak. 

She dips her quill in ink and writes the concluding sentence just as the 10 PM curfew bell rings. Sure, there are several crossed-out lines and a dark blotch from when she spaced out for too long and forgot about the quill poised above the parchment, but the essay should be solid enough for her to earn an 80%. Or at least, that’s what Jungeun tells herself as she stumbles out of the library yawning non-stop.

On the way to the dungeon, she passes a couple of prefects starting their night patrol and nods to them in greeting. The hallways are dimly lit by the line of torches along the walls, and Jungeun has to drag her feet to reach the last torch that signals the entryway to her common room. 

It’s been a long day. She thinks of the soft bed and snacks waiting for her, the completed Charms essay in her bag, and the lack of human interaction for the last nine hours. At least it hasn’t been completely unproductive. 

The door to the Slytherin common room is shrouded in darkness, as per the aesthetic, so when Jungeun stands near enough to clear her throat and say the password, she nearly jumps out of her skin when her bag hits something next to her knee that’s way too soft to be the wall. 

Plus, the wall doesn’t yelp, “Ow!” either.

“What the hell?”

There’s no mistaking the blonde hair. Jungeun stares at the girl, mouth agape, as Jinsol rubs her forehead and pushes her back against the wall to help her stand up. 

The inside of Jungeun’s chest goes _bump-bump-bump_ a little faster. 

“Jeez, you have a habit of assaulting my head, don’t you?” Jinsol jokes. She blinks a couple of times to fight the lingering sleepiness and smiles lopsidedly. 

“What are you doing here?” Jungeun hisses. “It’s past curfew! You should be in your dorm right now.”

“Relax, my roommates won’t snitch. Anyway, I waited for you because I wanted to ask,” Jinsol bends down and claws blindly at the floor. She must’ve kicked whatever it is because Jungeun hears the sound of something heavy rolling away. “…why is your common room so dark and gloomy, how do you guys live like this,” Jinsol mutters, before standing up and exclaiming, “Aha!” 

It’s like Jungeun’s brain has gone blank from the earlier exertion on her assignment, because all she does is blink and say, “what?”

“Let’s go night-flying!” Jinsol gleams, brandishing her Thunderbolt broomstick. The scuff marks littering the body are visible even in the poor lighting, and Jungeun winces at the memory of their last flight together.

“Why? It’s bedtime. What if we get caught by the prefects? Why can’t you wait until the next Quidditch training session?” Jungeun argues. Sure, she loves flying, but why Jinsol would want to do it at a time when the risk of hypothermia shoots up to alarming levels is beyond her. 

“Come onnn,” Jinsol pleads. “Sooyoung told me you had a bathroom emergency that took up the entire day. I thought this would cheer you up!”

“Sooyoung told you _what_?”

“Plus, you looked upset after the whole Boggart thing this morning. Look, whenever I feel sad or angry, flying always makes me feel better. As a fellow Quidditch player, I thought it would work for you, too” Jinsol bites her lower lip. She looks nervous, though Jungeun understands why when she hears her next words. “A - and since I didn’t see you at lunch or dinner today, I thought we could maybe, you know. Hang out or whatever.”

Jinsol wants to hang out? With her? Jungeun can’t help but feel confused. She thought that things would still be awkward between them and that she’d have to suck it up and apologize tomorrow morning. But now, Jinsol is here with a hopeful glint in her eyes and a broom in one hand. Like nothing ever happened. 

An old wound starts to twinge in her chest. Suddenly, she’s not that hungry anymore. 

Still, she’s not about to turn down the olive branch, especially since she’s the one at fault here. At least Jinsol saved her the trouble of opening the line of communication. 

“Okay,” she decides. “Let me get my broom and flying robes.”

“Great!” Jinsol exclaims, bouncing on her feet. “I’ll wait for you here.”

Jungeun almost trips in her haste to run up to her room. There’s no one inside, which means that Sooyoung is probably with Hyunjin and Hyejoo and Chaeyoung is staying with Tzuyu again. But more importantly, it means that no one is around to judge her for taking a customary Chocolate Frog from under her bed and pulling out the card inside. 

Maeda Atsuko, legendary demon slayer who saved the Mahōtokoro School of Magic from being overrun by Oni demons at the tender age of 15. She winks and adjusts the tie of her pink schoolgirl uniform. 

Okay, it’s a good card. Jungeun feels a lot lighter.

Everything will be fine. 

“Ready? Let’s go.”

They cast silencing charms on their shoes and brooms before tip-toeing against the wall leading to the staircase. Jungeun is certain that Nayeon has abandoned her duties to make-out with Jeongyeon in the prefect’s bathroom again, so they don’t have to worry about getting caught in this area, but still. The thrill leaves her breathless. 

She grabs Jinsol’s hand and starts running, giggling all the way like First-Years. The sound they’re making negates the silencing charms, but Jungeun doesn’t care. She hasn’t snuck out since Hyunjin convinced her, Sooyoung, and Hyejoo to search for secret passageways in the school, which led to a week of evening detention. 

She doesn’t mind taking a year of detention for this. 

Jinsol tugs at their clasped hands. “No, not the first floor. Let’s go to the Astronomy tower. I left a window open.” 

By a stroke of luck, they manage to avoid the prefects patrolling near the Ravenclaw common room. When they reach the Astronomy tower, Jinsol doesn’t waste a second before kicking off the ledge. She executes a barrel roll and whoops, her eyes disappearing into crescents as she breathes in the fresh air. 

Jungeun mounts on her broom and follows her. 

They use the moonlight to guide them to the Quidditch pitch. Jungeun takes a moment to thank Merlin for remembering to use wool gloves instead of her regular leather ones. The wind feels like daggers against her face. She’s pretty sure the reason why Madam Jeong doesn’t bother to put perimeter spells on the pitch is because no sane person would want to freeze to death thirty feet above the ground

“Hey!” Jinsol calls out, hovering near the goalposts. Jungeun has to fly nearer to hear her clearly. “Bet you can’t catch me.”

“Please,” Jungeun scoffs. “Even the new players can catch up to you. You fly as fast as my great-grandmother rides her wheelchair.” 

“Yet I broke your winning streak last year,” Jinsol brags. “Let’s bet on it. If you can catch up to me, I’ll let you ask or make me do anything you want. If you can’t, then the privilege is mine. Deal?”

Jungeun looks at her suspiciously. “Seems like a lot of work for such a vague reward.”

“Just think of it as extra Quidditch practice. You ready?”

“Fine.”

“Let’s go!”

Jinsol zips away before Jungeun can even position her hands correctly on the broom. 

“Hey, you cheated!” she yells. Jinsol’s laughter rings out in the open air. 

Jinsol is hellishly fast, even for a Seeker. Jungeun has years of Quidditch training on her, yet she can barely keep up with Jinsol’s silhouette zig-zagging among the blurring trees. Her elbows keep crashing into wayward branches and leaves as she weaves through the forest, marveling at the way the vegetation sways as though it were breathing. 

The pain barely stings. She’s too busy grinning, high from the rush of adrenaline coursing through her body. It’s like all of her problems are washing away, the wind stripping each anxious thought with every passing second. 

The chase goes on for a while, with Jinsol slowing down every now and then to give Jungeun some time to catch up (and to stick her tongue out, which Jungeun is highly offended by). As much as she refuses to admit it, Jungeun’s back is starting to hurt from being hunched over in speeding position, and they both can tell that she’s slowing down. Taking deep breaths while sweating in the cold air is the peak of human misery and Jungeun, unfortunately, is not immune to it. 

Jinsol emerges from the canopy with a vertical spin and kicks the air to give her leverage as she ascends to greater heights, approaching the heavy sheet of fog hanging between them and the night sky. Jungeun doesn’t follow. She hovers from the top of the trees and watches as Jinsol rises towards the moon, growing smaller and smaller as the fog swallows her up, and thinks, _wow_.

Eventually, Jinsol nosedives back down and raises her arms in victory when she sees Jungeun waiting for her, obviously having given up. “I win!”

“Okay.” Jungeun rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t that fair, anyway. Let’s see how many Bludgers _you_ can hit with accuracy.”

“I still won, though.” Jinsol flies closer to her until they’re practically face-to-face mid-air, the ends of their broomsticks bumping to each other. Her cheeks are bright red, hair sticking out in a million different directions, but her eyes are shining with mirth and Jungeun has never seen someone more beautiful in her entire life. 

“Fine, I’ll pay up. What is it that you want me to do?”

The other girl is silent. For a brief, passing moment, Jungeun swears that Jinsol seems to be leaning in. Maybe the wind made her broom sway, maybe Jinsol shifted her weight. Or perhaps Jinsol is just leaning in. Jungeun tries to quell the hope blooming in her chest.

“Were you upset with me this morning?” she asks softly.

Oh.

“Whaaat? What makes you think that?” Jungeun says, injecting as much confusion as she can muster into her tone. 

It doesn’t work. “The way you wouldn’t look at me for the entire duration of the class,” Jinsol answers dubiously. 

“Hey, it wasn’t that long!” 

“So you admit that you _were_ ignoring me?”

Damn. She walked right into that.

Look, Jungeun made a promise to herself not to tell Jinsol, and for good reason: she doesn’t want pity, she doesn’t need consolation, and she definitely doesn’t need Jinsol freaking out about her fucked-up upbringing and running in the other direction. It’s counterintuitive. She’ll be shooting herself in the foot. There’s nothing to gain from telling her. 

(In the back of her mind, she wonders when the question turned from _do I want to tell Jinsol_ to _will it scare her away from me_.)

But then there’s this: she wants to be honest. For some weird, inexplicable, perplexing reason, she wants to see how Jinsol would react. Whether it’s a friendship worth keeping. 

“The guy my Boggart turned into? His name is Doah,” Jinsol says suddenly. “I don’t know if you remember, but he was a senior when we were Fifth-Years.”

Ah. Jungeun is slightly taken aback by how quickly the conversation turned around, but now it does make sense that she barely recognized him. 

Fifth year was when Jinsol turned blonde and Jungeun was introduced to the vast effects of teenage hormones. She avoided Ravenclaws in general for half a year because seeing their robes would elicit a Pavlovian response in her brain. Truly an embarrassing time.

“He was the Head Boy at that time. Super smart, handsome, charming. A Half-Blood, too, so he had an in with everyone no matter their blood status. The girls’ dorm would turn into a bloodbath whenever he came by the common room. The teachers loved him. Everyone did, really. But he chose me.” Jinsol smiles bitterly. “He was the perfect guy: he took me out on dates to Hogsmeade during the weekends, helped me study for my O.W.L.s, and was nice to my friends. Falling for him was easy.”

Jungeun swallows. “What happened?”

“When the winter holiday rolled around, I decided to visit him as a surprise. I took a train from Chuncheon to Daejeon and timed it so that we could spend a few hours together before his family’s Christmas Eve dinner. I was supposed to take the midnight train back.” She thumbs over the scratches on her broom absentmindedly, lost in the memory. 

“When I got to his house, right before he noticed me, I saw him kissing another girl on the doorstep. Long story short, I confronted him, he tried to defend himself by saying that he was just greeting a childhood friend or whatever, and we broke up in front of his grandparents and cousins. And since I already bought the return ticket, I had to spend, like, ten hours wandering around Daejeon alone on Christmas Eve.”

Jungeun exhales. She had no idea. “Jinsol, that sucks. You deserve better than him.”

“I know, I know.” Jinsol smiles, weak and watery. “I got over it fairly quickly. He graduated a semester later anyway, so I didn’t have to stick it out for that long. But the memory stayed with me. It was _humiliating_ , Jungeun. I sat on a bench in front of a strip mall and cried for two hours while people stared. I was just…so sad and lost and all I could think about was how horrible it felt to not be wanted.”

The silence hangs between them. 

Jungeun doesn’t know what to say. She’s beyond furious at the guy for treating Jinsol that way, but they both know that the Boggart wasn’t really him. It was what he left behind. What is still lingering in Jinsol even until today. 

“Why are you telling me this?” she asks quietly. “Why do you want me to know?” _What do you want?_

The corners of Jinsol’s lips turn up ever so slightly. “I wasn’t about to ask what your Boggart meant, you know. I just wanted to ask if you were okay. Plus, I was hoping to give you a quick rundown on Star Wars so you’d understand why I dressed him as Jar Jar Binks. I knew you wouldn’t get the reference.”

And then Jungeun gets it. Jinsol had nothing to gain from telling her, too.

“Jinsol, I –,”

The blonde raises a hand to stop her. “You don’t have to tell me, Jungeun. You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you because we’re friends, and I trust you. I hope - I hope you trust me, too.”

Jungeun’s breath catches in her throat. “I’m scared you’ll think differently of me,” she confesses with a small voice. “My family – they’re terrible people. I’m not that good of a person, either.”

“It’s okay,” Jinsol whispers, definitely leaning forward now. Jungeun can almost feel her breath ghosting over her lips. “I’m not chasing for perfect.”

As if on instinct, Jungeun draws nearer as well. Streams of moonlight cut through the fog and shine on Jinsol’s face, illuminating her eyes and the straight bridge of her nose and the softness of her lips, and Jungeun wants so badly to take the leap…

“ _Ahem_.”

They jump apart. Which, in retrospect, isn’t the wisest idea, considering that they’re still hovering in the air. Jungeun nearly slides off her broom in utter shock. 

Belatedly, she realizes that the sound came from neither of them, but rather from a visibly ticked-off Haseul crossing her arms and staring up at them from the ground. 

“Care to tell me why you’re both up and about at this hour?” Haseul yells, tapping a foot impatiently. “You know this is grounds for detention, right?”

Haseul marches up to them as soon as their feet hit the ground, her glare intensifying when she takes in their robes and gloves, betraying a clearly planned breach of rules.

“Uhh, please don’t snitch?” Jinsol grimaces. 

Haseul rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You’re lucky I’m the one patrolling this area tonight and not someone else. Go back to your dorms before I change my mind.” She stomps back into the school, muttering about delinquents and abuse of power under her breath. 

The night is clearly over. Jungeun moves to follow suit, but stops in her tracks when Jinsol shoots out an arm across her stomach. “Wait.”

“Hmm?”

“Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“Are you all cheered up?” 

“Yes, Jinsol. I’m all cheered up.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jinsoul made the charts her bitch!! that's our girl!!!
> 
> twt @sleepyshamrocks


End file.
